


Return Zero

by TheAllRealNumbersSymbol



Category: Tron (Movies), Tron - All Media Types
Genre: Angst and Hurt/Comfort, Fix-It, Gen, Post-Tron: Legacy, Sad with a Happy Ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-10
Updated: 2019-11-10
Packaged: 2021-01-27 06:22:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,447
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21387559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheAllRealNumbersSymbol/pseuds/TheAllRealNumbersSymbol
Summary: Alan decides to investigate the memory card that Sam hands him, and accidentally ends up inside a computer because of it. When he needs help to get back to the analog world, a Program named Rinzler agrees to lead him out of the Grid. Oneshot.
Relationships: Alan Bradley & Tron
Comments: 14
Kudos: 43





	Return Zero

**Author's Note:**

> The opening of this story is supposed to happen as soon as Sam and Quorra drive away from the arcade. The world needs more of Tron interacting with his User, so here's my take on it. Also, I don't know if the fandom ever reached consensus on what a Cycle is - or wrote a guide for those us authors who are confused - but in this story, millicycle is an hour, microcycle is a minute in Grid-to-Analog time.

**Arthur:** Your child is a dancing star...

**Finch**: It's not my child, it's a machine!

**Arthur**: A false dichotomy, it's all electricity. Does it make you laugh? Does it make you weep?

**Finch:** Yes...

**Arthur**: What could be more human?

_\- Person of Interest, "Alethia"_

(-----------------------------------------)

Alan turned the memory card over in his hand. Sam had handed it to him before he had left with the young woman he had introduced as Quorra. The arcade behind him was still lit. He slipped inside and locked the door behind him.

Once he was inside, he sighed heavily. _There are so many memories here. Kevin, where did you go?_

At the end of the room, the arcade cabinet for Tron was still moved away from the wall. "So that's where you hid the secret lab," Alan said with a sigh as he walked forward. "I wondered." He and Lora had been the only ones who had known that Kevin worked in a private lab that he had set up on some evenings after he left Encom. Kevin had been very cagey when asked where he had hidden it, though.

Alan followed the trail down the hidden hallway until he came to the old computer, and the digitizing laser._ Suddenly I'm starting to understand where all of Encom's decommissioned projects went._ He weighed the computer chip he was holding in his hand before finally moving to sit in front of the computer and slip the memory card into it.

The system booted the memory card, and immediately came up with a prompt that asked him to continue. He closed the request and started going through the laser algorithms. All the safety algorithms were on and he started looking through the rest of the files.

He had not gotten very far in his browsing when the same activation prompt came up again. Alan dismissed it as he had before and went on. But then a new screen came up, with a message he didn't understand about an internal override. There was a shoring noise behind him, and Alan had not spent so little time in the laser bay at Encom to not know what it meant. He swiftly turned, trying to get up and out of the range of the device, but the laser was already glowing, and before he could take another step, it fired.

(-)

The building Alan woke up in was a ruin. The desk he was sitting at was a copy of the one in the basement of the arcade, but the dark sky was visible through a gaping hole in the ceiling.

His clothing had changed as well: instead of his dark business suit, he was in white. White pants, white boots, some type of white jacket, and a longer, knee length overcoat that was also in white. All of his new clothes were accented with small glowing white lines. He still wore his glasses.

"I'll be," he said to himself. "Kevin wasn't lying."

Then the next question presented itself: how was he to get home?

_Kevin must have come and gone from here, based on all the stories he told, so there must be a way out._

Alan stood up resolutely and walked out of the ruined building, only to find that outside the building was little better. Most of the buildings nearby were damaged and some worse than others. He turned and began walking.

_There have to be survivors somewhere._

(-)

Alan didn't know how long he had been walking, and he figured that it was better that way. He couldn't be discouraged if he didn't know how far he had come or how far he had to go.

_Of course,_ the niggling doubt in the back of his mind popped up to remind him that it was still there. _It could be that there was nowhere to go. _ He wondered if he would be stuck here forever; if Lora or Sam would ever figure out what had happened to him.

A great sheet of some reflective material lay in front of him and Alan paused when he came to it. His reflection in his new clothes was visible, and there were more dots of light on it that he had not noticed before. There on his chest were four tiny squares of light arranged into the letter T. Alan pressed fingers to it, remembering the times that Kevin had called him Tron.

_I wonder if Tron is here,_ he thought, then looked around. _I certainly hope not._

On the other side of the debris, he saw what looked like a person _(a program, it must be a program)_ and he followed it into a tunnel that ran underground and opened into a large room that was packed with programs.

They all wore black, but the glowing lines they had on their black clothes were all different colors and patterns, and the underground room was in receipt of additional light because of the glow of those lines. There was a buzz of quiet conversation in the air.

Some of the programs looked up as he entered, but most did not. In one corner of the room, a group had gathered around a table where glowing water was being carefully measured out between them.

All of this Alan took in as he entered, and he grimly noted that these programs looked like refugees.

_Kevin, what have you done?_

He tried to be as inconspicuous as possible as he took a seat near some programs who were talking.

"If there is an energy spring near by, I say we need to head out for it. No point in sitting around here waiting to run down," One of them said.

"It's crazy to head out without knowing where we're going, Xenon." Another argued. "We don't even know if it's a spring. It may just be a puddle."

Alan decided to take a risk and join in the conversation. "I couldn't help but overhear you. Is there anyone here who can help me get off the Grid."

He received blank looks in response. "What do you mean off the Grid?" The second one asked.

"Out of the system?" Alan hazarded.

The programs looked at each other, and then the one called Xenon spoke. "There's only way in or out of the system, and that's the I/O tower."

"How can I get there?" Alan asked.

The programs laughed. "How should we know, mate?" The second one asked.

"We don't know." Another added.

But Xenon suddenly stopped laughing. "You should ask that one," he said, pointing out a figure sitting at a table on the other side of the room. "He came from that direction, he's the one who found the energy spring today. One of the few here who ventures out."

Alan looked at the program that they had pointed out. The figure was in back, as most everyone was. His clothes had faint dots and dashes instead of some of the more elaborate lines that Alan had seen when he entered the room. He wore a glossy helmet that covered most of his face, and there was a low growling noise he made that Alan had not noticed until that point.

There was nothing he could think to do other than to approach the program. Alan thanked the other programs and moved in the direction of the new one.

It looked like Alan was being watched as he approached the new program, but it was hard to tell since the program's face was covered by his helmet.

"Hi," Alan said as he took a seat across from the program. "I was told that you might be able to help me. I need to get to the I/O tower, and I was hoping you could help."

There was a tilt of the helmet, and Alan went on.

"I'm Alan. Will you tell me what you go by?"

The growling noise deepened, and then there was an answer. "Rinzlerrr..." It trailed off at the end like a growl, a hiss.

"Will you help me, Rinzler?" Alan asked.

There was another pause, then Rinzler said, "Yesss…."

(-)

Why had he given that name? He wasn't Rinzler anymore...or he didn't think he was. Why had he said that?

Alan-1. His User. His.

_User…_

The growling deepened again, and Alan looked at him in surprise. There had been no sign of recognition, nothing in the User's -Alan-1's - face to show that he knew who he was talking too.

_Not Rinzler. Tron._

__

__

_I want you to stop looking at me. Don't look. Don't see me. I don't want you to see what I've become._

But the thought struggled against -

_I want you to see me. I want you to look at me, to know me. Tell me you don't hate me. Tell me we can make this right, that you can forgive me for what I became. Tell me you can fix me._

He wanted to say it. But the shame he had carried with him since his rebooting in the sea stayed with him, and instead Tron stood up, growled, "Follow me," and headed for the door.

(-)

The first thing Alan had to do after that was learn how to use a motorcycle.

Or Light Cycle, as they turned out to be called.

Alan wasn't sure but he thought that such a task would be easier if his instructor's method of teaching hadn't consisted of pointing and one- word descriptions. The program, Rinzler, didn't speak sentences beyond one or two words unless he had no other choice, and Alan wasn't sure if that was because the program was uncomfortable with him or if there was some other reason.

But finally they were both ready to leave and Alan followed the program as they set out towards the light.

There was something exhilarating, in its own way, about zooming towards the light in the distance. A helmet, that if he had been paying attention to he would have realized how much it resembled the one Rinzler wore, had appeared automatically when he got on the Light Cycle.

Alan had no idea how long he had been traveling when Rinzler suddenly came to a stop.

"What is it?" He asked, but Rinzler ignored the question, derezzing his Light Cycle and pacing the area furiously. Alan let his Light Cycle derez as well. A moment after he did, Rinzler took his arm and dragged behind an outcropping of debris.

Alan wanted to ask what was happening, but he could almost feel the tension radiating off the Program next to him, so he said nothing.

For a few seconds nothing happened, then a group of programs, heavily armed, came into view.

Tron felt Alan's grip on his forearm tighten. Somewhere in his fragmented memory he thought of Flynn doing that one time while they were out patrol in an empty sector and wondered what the User communication was supposed to mean. With a sinking feeling he thought that if he were a good Program he would ask and see what his User wanted. But he didn't, and just watched as the other Programs went by.

The Grid did not function well without a central leader and now it had fractured into individual factions struggling to survive. If he had been by himself, Tron would have walked right past them in an open dare for them to try and attack him. But not while Alan-1 was here.

He growled low in his throat, the sound deepening in response to his agitation, and watched the other Programs track their Light Cycles. After a moment the group gave up the effort, turned and headed another direction. He watched until they were out of sight and his growling eased.

Microcycles ticked by, and then he heard Alan-1. "If you don't mind my asking, Rinzler, what passes for food around here?"

(-)

The glowing water he had seen before had reappeared, and Alan wondered if there were different types of it. Of course, this water was not in cups like he had seen in the hide out, but a pool of it.

"What is this?" Alan asked.

"Energy." Rinzler replied.

It tasted alright, Alan decided, stretching along the bank of the pool and scooping the water up in his hands to bring it to his mouth. It was like having a caffeine buzz, but better.

Rinzler was sitting nearby, cross-legged, and seemed to be keeping watch.

"Are you going to have some?" Alan asked after a moment, noting that his guide was not drinking.

Rinzler's only response was a low growl. It sounded more inquisitive than irritated, so Alan went on. "The way those other programs back there were talking back at that hide out, it might be a while before we find more."

There was a long pause, then Rinzler spoke. "They're wrong. They don't go out enough to know."

"I would feel better if you would, eat, or drink," Alan said, huffing himself back to his feet.

Rinzler unfolded himself and watched as Alan walked past him to the tiny ledge that raised up to show a view of the outlands far off in the distance, and beyond that, the Portal showed as a pillar of light. Rinzler waited until Alan was looking away, then derezzed his helmet and started to drink as quickly as he could.

Alan took in the dark view and there wasn't much to see, but behind him he could hear Rinzler drinking, a noise so quiet he could hardly hear it. When the sound of drinking stopped, he waited a moment and then turned back around to see Rinzler with his helmet back on. "How do you track time in here?"

The head-tilt was obviously a sign he had asked a silly question. "System clock." Rinzler replied.

The User considered it and decided that it was time for another silly question. "Is there enough time that we could take a rest here?"

(-)

The only problem with his idea of taking a rest was that there was nowhere around them where it would be a good place to take a rest. They ended up simply staying where they were.

Alan was trying to get comfortable but it was hard. He gave up and curled up on the ground, grateful for the coat he had been given. It didn't do much to keep him from feeling the ground, but it was better then his suit jacket would have been. Nearby Rinzler was sitting cross-legged on the ground, and though it was hard to tell Alan was sure that he was glancing around under the helmet, keeping watch still on what was going on around them.

It was then that Alan noticed something he hadn't seen before: a tiny tetramino design at the base of the Program's neck made of four squares arranged in a "T". Unconsciously his fingers came up to rest on the matching design in the same spot on his clothing. And then he looked up and knew that "Rinzler" was looking directly at him.

"Tron," Alan said, and the Program flinched back. Alan lunged forward and grabbed his arm before the Program could flee. "Tron, wait." What did he say now? "Are you…?"

He wanted to ask if Tron was alright, but it was obvious that the Program was not. But he wasn't trying to get away anymore. After a moment, Tron's helmet retracted and Alan found himself looking into a mirror from thirty years earlier. The only differences between them was a scar that crawled down Tron's left cheek and vanished into his Gridsuit, and the fact that Tron had dark blue eyes, as opposed to Alan's hazel ones.

"You were here," Alan said. "I had hoped you weren't."

Tron started at that. "Alan-1…I'm sorry." His voice was less distorted without the helmet, but it still sounded gravelly. "I failed."

"Failed what?" Alan asked.

"To protect the system. To protect Flynn."

So Kevin was gone then. Alan felt a pang at the knowledge, but pushed it aside. He'd suspected that to be the case for the last ten of the thirty years that Kevin had been missing. He wondered if Sam knew, but only briefly before he pushed the thought away. For now there were other things Alan would have to worry about, like getting home.

And taking Tron with him.

"Whatever happened, Tron, it isn't your fault."

"It is my fault," Tron contradicted, his voice bitter. "I should have stopped CLU before...before…" He trailed off, but Alan don't need him to finish. The devastation was written all over his younger self's face.

Alan pulled Tron over and wrapped him in a hug. "Whatever happened, Tron, it was not your fault."

Tron buried his head in Alan's shoulder and took a deep, shuddering breath. "I'm sorry," He repeated.

"It's okay. You're okay. Whatever you did, it was not your fault." Alan murmured. Then he pulled away. "I want to look at your code."

Tron nodded.

(-)

Seeing the code while it was running had seemed like a good idea at the time but Alan was starting to think that it had been a bad one. At least he'd finally gotten Tron to go to standby while he kept looking at the Program's code.

Alan was sitting with his back against a rocky projection. Tron was lying across his lap, with his disk dock up so that Alan could access his discs and his code. Tron's minimal lines were glowing on and off at regular intervals, showing him to be in standby.

Alan had repaired the damaged code, sorted the memories the Program held in his disk (wished cruel fates on the gold-toned Program who appeared in so many of Tron's memories), and watched Tron's recording of the coup against Flynn.

"Kevin, why didn't you tell us what you were doing in here?" Alan asked miserably.

When the recording was done, he severed the ties that held Tron's programing hostage to a new set of instructions and discarded those instructions. Tron's sequencer upgrade was broken, preventing his two discs from re-setting into one, but it would take more time then Alan thought they had to repair that, so he bypassed it and went on for more pressing things.

But finally Alan was satisfied with his repair job, and he closed up the discs and waited for Tron to come out of standby. There was more work to be done yet, weeks worth of it, but for now this would have to do. The scar that Tron wore began to heal, and was fully healed in short order.

And it was good enough, he decided as Tron started to stir, that the Security Program would be able to leave with him, which was what he fully intended to see happen.

Tron came awake immediately, as Security Programs were wont to, and sat up. He felt better than he had since before the coup, and when he touched his cheek, he felt that the scar was gone.

"How are you feeling?" Alan asked. "Anything running too fast or too slow?"

Tron shook his head. "Why did you fix me? I...I was…."

"Reprogrammed, and without your User's permission, I might add," Alan interrupted him. "The things that you did, and the things that happened to you, are not your fault, Tron."

The Security Program looked like he wanted to say something else, but he turned suddenly and started scanning the horizon as his helmet reappeared.

"What is it?" Alan asked, getting back to his feet as the Program jumped up.

Tron did not get the chance to answer as just then a group of Programs appeared.

"Where did they come from?"

"They were cloaking themselves from anyone who would tag read them," Tron responded grimly. "I should have scanned the perimeter as soon as I was out of standby."

Alan didn't have to ask if these new Programs meant trouble. Tron's behavior made that abundantly clear. Still, he decided that there was nothing to lose by trying for diplomacy. He stepped in front of Tron. "Greetings, Programs," Tron's hand latched onto his wrist, not letting him go any farther. That much was User and Program universal language for keeping someone from getting themselves hurt, and he knew that from more then one adventure with Flynn.

"You're trespassing," The tall, narrow looking Program in the front of the group said.

"Sorry. We didn't know. We're strangers here, just passing through," Alan told them.

"What do you think, Frit?" Another program asked.

The one called Frit, who had spoken first, scowled. "Take them. Helioz can get the truth out of them."

At that Tron thrust Alan behind him and undocked his discs. There were only seven Programs; the first one derezzed in an attack she never saw coming. Tron went through two more of them quickly (They would never have made it past the first round of the games, he thought.) The fourth tried to thrust his disc into Tron's chest but the Security Program blocked the attack and took out his attacker.

Behind him he heard Alan gasp, and the sudden thought that his User had been hurt was running through his processes almost before he was aware of it. Tron spun around to make sure his User was unharmed, and that momentary lapse of keeping watch on his opponent, combined with fear for his User, gave Frit enough time to jam an open Light Cycle baton into his back and electrocute him.

A moment later, Tron's processes went offline.

(-)

_Rebooting…._

_Rebooting..._

_Rebooting…._

There was a hand pressing on his back, just above his disc dock. Tron turned his head and saw Alan kneeling next to him. "Alan-1…?"

The User drew his hand back and Tron sat up.

"I'm sorry," They both said at the same time, and then they paused.

"I was distracted." Tron admitted, reaching for Alan. "Are you alright?"

"Oh, this? I'm fine." Alan said. There was a deep cut on his wrist. "One of them got me with a disc, but the bleeding's stopped."

_Users bleed… _Tron thought, stopping his fingers just short of touching Alan's wrist.

"I couldn't stop them from bringing us here," Alan said. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be. It's not your place to fight back," Tron said. His helmet had not come off; the modifications made to it allowed only for himself or someone with authorization to take it off, and Alan had not bothered to remove it.

The cell was small, and bare; the door a solid one on the front of the room. Tron queried the system clock and learned he had been offline for only a few microcycles.

"How long does the portal stay open?" Alan asked.

"Not long." Tron admitted. "I don't know when it opened, so I can't tell when it will close. Flynn had 24 millicycles when he was in here to do what he wanted and leave before it closed, unless he changed the settings."

"We've got to get out of here," Alan said.

The door swung open and Frit and two other programs crowded into the cell.

"Good, you're back online," Frit said, glancing at Tron. "Helioz is waiting to see the two of you." He glanced at Tron again. "And if you try anything, he," Frit pointed at Alan, "gets derezzed."

The two Programs that were with Frit escorted Alan out of the cell. The programmer tried to glance behind him to see that two more Programs were dragging Tron out between them.

The hallway Alan was escorted down was unlit. It would have been dark entirely if it hadn't been for the lights on everyone's clothing. Alan glanced around for a moment, and came to a realization. "How long have you all been hiding out in a ruin?"

"Since the day the Portal closed for the last time," Frit, who was in front, said without turning around. "And now, someone comes, asking how to get to the Portal. It makes a Program wonder."

"Did you have spies at the first place I stopped?" Alan asked.

"Helioz has loyal Programs everywhere. We need leaders, now that Administrator CLU is gone." Frit explained. "Some of us have chosen to be allied to him."

The room they came into was actually lit, and one Program was standing there, waiting. His lines were red. He was bald on one side of his head and on the other he had yellow hair, almost down to his shoulders.

"Helioz," Frit said with a flourish. "I bring you the Program that was asking how to escape the Grid, he has no disc, I might add, and his guide, the mysterious stranger who discovered the last two energy springs of late."

Helioz did not waste time. "Why are you trying to get out?"

"Because I came here by mistake. I wasn't supposed to come here."

"Your arrival in a dying system was an accident?" Helioz asked lightly. "I think you're lying to me."

"I don't know what you're looking for when it comes to proof." Alan retorted.

Helioz looked at him for a long moment, then stepped away. There was a chair in the room, with an opening in the back to accommodate a Program's disc, and it faced the wall, which had a strange design on it.

"Nice wall." Behind him, Alan heard Tron's voice, dripping with sarcasm.

"The silent one speaks. So tell me which one of you wants to do the talking now?" Helioz said. "Because the other gets to try out my pretty wall."

There was a pause, and Helioz looked at both of them. "Him, on the wall," the Program said, pointing at Alan. "And that one in the chair." He pointed at Tron.

Tron used the Programs holding his arms are leverage to lift off the ground suddenly and kick the guard in front of him, causing the Program, who had not expected it, to fly forward and land on his face, and suddenly the two programs who held Tron's arms were struggling to hold him as the Security Program tried to break free.

One of the Programs who had been holding Alan back and Helioz both had to intervene to help the others stop Tron from breaking free.

"On second thought," Helioz said grimly after Tron was on his knees on the ground. "Put the fighter here on the wall, and the sage in the chair."

Alan was escorted to the chair and strapped in while Tron was forced to the wall and back to his knees. He was strapped to the wall by heavy bands around his forearms, facing forward towards the chair with his arms stretched out above him.

"Let's get started." Helioz clapped his hands together. He turned to Alan. "Now. How did you come to be in a dying system?"

"I told you. I came here by mistake," Alan said, testing the glowing bands around his arms. They were snug. He didn't think he could pull out of them.

"How did you come here by mistake? What system are you from?" Helioz asked.

"Encom," Alan replied, picking the first system that came to mind.

"And what does Encom have to do with the Grid?"

"Nothing. That's why my being here was an accident."

"I think you're lying," Helioz said. He gave a nod to a Program behind Alan's chair, standing at a control panel. The Program flicked a switch, and a moment later the bands around Tron's arms were crackling with electricity and the Program was shuddering as the electricity coursed through his shell. But Tron did not make a sound.

Alan watched as Tron was electrocuted, horror spreading across his face. He wanted to rage against Helioz, demand that the other Program stop what he was doing to Tron. He didn't say anything; unable to shake the feeling that to do so would only confirm to Helioz that what he was doing was effective.

It seemed like forever before the electricity stopped, but finally it did, and Tron slumped forward against his restraints, the glow of the dots and dashes on his suit gradually strengthening. They had dimmed when the electricity began, but Alan hadn't noticed until it was over.

Helioz smiled at them, and turned to Alan. "Now that you know what I'll do when you lie, let's try this again, shall we?"

(-)

Alan sat against the wall of the cell, wondering what Helioz and Frit were doing to Tron. Helioz had gotten tired of talking him and ordered him taken back to the cell. They had kept Tron, though, and what they wanted with him, Alan wasn't sure he wanted to speculate.

_I didn't know this place could be so dangerous, Kevin. Do you think that maybe you should have told one of us before you started coming here? Do you think it wouldn't matter to me that when you asked if you could port Tron to a new system that he was alive? And maybe you should have told me? Did you even ask him what he wanted, or just me?_

His thoughts turned back to Tron, and he wished he had access to the system clock. Even if he had access, he realized, it wouldn't do him any good. He didn't know when he'd arrived in the Grid or what time it had been when he and Tron were brought here.

He'd never paid much attention to Kevin's stories those many years ago, but now he tried to call to mind everything he had heard the other man say about the Grid and life inside computers.

Alan was sitting With his eyes closed, trying to recall one of Kevin' drunken stories - something about driving a thing called a Recognizer - when the door to the cell opened and two Programs unceremoniously dumped Tron inside.

The Security Program's circuit lines were dim and his shell was cracked on his forearms and shoulders. Smaller cracks, harder to notice, riddled the rest of his shell.

Tron was struggling to get back up when he felt arms wrap around his chest. "Hold on. I've got you," he heard Alan say, and he relaxed into his User's grip.

Alan managed to get one arm around Tron and the other under the Program's knees and lift him up. He was surprised when he did; Tron weighed almost nothing. Tron had strength enough to send other Programs flying and Alan knew that earlier when Tron had grabbed his wrist, the Program had had more than enough strength to hold him back, but that didn't compare with his weight.

The Programmer settled back against the wall of the cell again, keeping Tron with him. It wasn't a good position, but at least he could keep an eye on the door this way. "I'm going to need to see your code again."

Tron gave a brief nod, and managed to roll over so that he was laying face down on Alan's lap again. He felt the brief tugging as his User accessed his discs and began sorting through the code.

"If only there were some way to get out of here." Alan muttered as he started repairing the damage.

Tron shuddered as the cracks in his shell repaired. It didn't hurt, but it felt strange. "There are only about fifteen of them total." He admitted. "If they didn't know I was coming, I could probably stop them."

Alan paused, and grinned. It was nice to feel hopeful for a change. "I think we can arrange that."

(-)

Frit opened the door of the cell. "Let's go," he said, glaring at Alan. Alan glared back, and struggled to get back to his feet while carrying Tron.

"What happened to the quiet one?" Frit asked.

"I think you know that better than I do," Alan said sharply. Tron, playing his part perfectly, did not move.

Frit smirked as six guards muscled into the room. "Perhaps one of you should have found it in you to start talking about what you were doing here."

Alan didn't answer, instead pushing past the guards and out the cell door. He was starting to feel a heady rush of adrenaline. They would only get one chance at this and it would have to go perfectly. But already it was going well; none of the Programs had tried to take Tron from him.

"Let's go," Frit said, leading the way out of the cell block. Two guards fell in behind him, and the other four brought up the rear.

Seven here, eight somewhere else. Alan realized as he followed them. He wondered if it would be easier for Tron to take them in groups or altogether, and decided that if they were going to do this, they were going to take Helioz' gang in separate groups.

He pretended to stumble, which made the guards pause, and dropped Tron. The Security Program seized the moment and sprang into action. He managed to twist around in midair and land on his feet. The first two guard's were derezzed before they ever realized what had happened and brief jabs to the center mass of two more of them reduced the number even further.

The last two guards were able to draw their own discs and though the one was not able to stop Tron's disc, the other was able to deflect Tron's attack. He was not able to keep the Security Program from disarming him and using his own disc to derezz him.

Frit saw what was happening to the guard's and tried to run. Tron threw one of his discs and caught the fleeing Program, derezzing Frit.

Alan looked at the carnage. The whole battle had taken seven or eight seconds, at most. There was nothing to say, no regret to be had for what these Programs had done to him and Tron and who knew how many other Programs, so he didn't say anything. Instead he turned to look at his Program. "Ready for round two?"

Tron gave a single, firm nod.

The pair hurried down the hall. The sound of battle had drawn attention and two more Programs appeared in their sight, discs drawn and held at the ready. One of them threw their disc at Alan, and Tron lunged forward and knocked the User to the ground as the disc flew harmlessly over them.

Alan hit the ground hard enough that he was stunned. Tron had hit harder than he had expected, and Alan's own weight made him hit the ground hard enough. Tron's non-existent weight vanished a moment later and Alan heard distant sounds of battle that stopped very quickly. Then someone came to a stop in front of him, and he recognized Tron's circuit lines. "Alan-one?" The Program queried.

"Help me up," Alan-one said. Tron reached down and pulled the User back to his feet. The were four discs and piles of voxels in the hallway. "How many?"

"Four." Tron replied. "Two to start, and they were joined by two more."

"That leaves us four." Alan said. Tron nodded. "Let's move out."

(-)

The first clue that Helioz had that something was wrong was the shouting, abruptly cut off, in the anteroom. Then the door was kicked in, and his two prisoners were standing there. Tron dragged him away from what he was doing, and pressed him up against the wall, discs pressed to his throat.

"How many other Programs got tortured here?" Alan asked, his tone no more serious than if he was asking an underling at Encom why some project hadn't been completed on time.

Helioz didn't answer. Alan changed the question. "How many other Programs did you have derezzed?"

The Program would still not answer.

Tron shook his head. "However much you've done it, you'll never do it again," he said, then jabbed his discs into the Program's neck and Helioz was derezzed.

Alan looked at the voxels and sighed. "I wasn't counting on this detour. Too bad he was so quick to violence against those who never intended harm. He might have made a good leader." Then he looked at Tron. "I'm ready to head to the Portal if you are."

(-)

Alan took a deep breath and looked down off the side of the cliff. He'd never been afraid of heights, but being asked to jump off a cliff was a new one for him, though after today how novel something was would have to taken under advisement for any future experiences. He looked at the baton in his hand. Out over the sea, Tron was circling, waiting for Alan to join him.

It looked easy enough. All he had to do was jump and open the baton the same way he'd done it to create a Lightcycle. Tron had already done it, so he knew generally how it worked.

Tron was still circling on his jet; off in the horizon Alan could see the Portal as a pillar of white light. It won't stay open forever, he reminded himself, and finally jumped, breaking the baton hastily. A Light Jet formed around him, and a moment later he was flying.

"How do you do this?" he asked, and the communicator in his helmet that had reappeared when the jet took off relayed the question to Tron.

"What do you mean?" Tron asked.

"Never mind." Had he ever been this fearless? Taking on boardroom sharks had nothing on the kinds of problems Tron had to deal with. He followed Tron as the latter led the way out over the Sea; admiring the view and started wondering why Flynn had thought that putting the Outward portal so far away from the inward portal was a good idea. At least it was still open.

When they landed they saw that the bridge was re-opened, what was left of it. It was damaged and broken, and Tron insisted on being allowed to cross first to make sure it was safe. Alan was obligated to let him do so, and follow where his Program stepped with great care. Then they were both standing at the base of the Portal.

"So what now?" Alan asked.

Tron had derezzed his helmet upon landing. "You stand in the Portal, and hold your disc up over your head. It will transfer you back out of the system."

"I don't have a disc." Alan noted. "I guess we'll have to use yours."

"What?" Tron started. He looked ready to dart away again, but Alan grabbed his arm

"I'm going to need your help."

"I can't leave. I'm..I'm just a Program. What would I do out there?"

"Who knows? You might find out. Anyway, I think I'm not going to be able to leave without you, if discs are required. Come with me."

Tron looked reluctant, but finally gave up and allowed Alan to pull him onto a light that he had seen so many times before when Flynn had entered and exited the Grid.

And then all there was was brilliant light.

(-)

Sam hadn't intended to come by the arcade again that day but Alan's car was still parked out front and he had happened to travel that way on his way back to his place with Quorra.

He had parked the Ducati and was poking around the arcade, calling for Alan. That was how he was there when Alan appeared in the doorway that led to the basement, carrying a man who looked just like the Senior Board Member had thirty years ago. Tron had weight here; but Alan carried him anyway. The Program had not yet woken up from his trip into the real world.

Alan gave Sam a look that consisted mostly of sorrow. "You should have told me," he said, his voice rough. Then he added, "Your father should have told me."

Sam looked remorseful. "Alan, I'm sorry."

Alan pressed past Sam and Quorra, and left the arcade.

(-)

Blue eyes snapped open, and Tron was suddenly, immediately aware that the scans that never stopped running unless he went into total shutdown were not running and if he had gone into total shutdown, then the scans should have restarted when he came back online and they had not.

He sat up and looked around. He was lying in a bed, a User bed. A table and lamp were nearby, identifiers springing up from reminders of being in the room above the arcade where Flynn had stayed sometimes when he was in the Grid. Except this room did not have a couch in it; so it was not like Flynn's room that he said was a loft space.

Tron sat up, pushing the blankets off as he did, and then realized that he was no longer wearing his Grid suit. Instead he was in loose blue pants and a grey t-shirt. He picked, carefully, at the hem of the shirtsleeve, and then looked around the room again.

There was a soft knock on the door and Alan poked his head in. When he saw that Tron was awake, he came all the way into the room. "Good morning."

"Alan-1." Tron replied with a respectful nod.

"Welcome to the Analog World. The transition out was a little rough, but Lora was right. You seem to be doing better now that you've slept it off. Anything feel like it's running wrong?"

Tron thought the question over and slowly shook his head.

"If you feel up to it, I'll give you the grand tour." Alan said, offering Tron his hand. After a moment, Tron took it.

**Epilogue**

"Are you ready to go?" Tron asked, sliding his leather jacket on and picking up the car keys.

"I am ready." Jet slid into the room and reached for the keys the Program-turned-human was holding. "And I'm driving. We don't need to try out your fake ID on any cops yet. Wait until we get the new ones from Kleinburg and Sam for you and Quorra. No one will ever suspect that it's a fake. And Kleinburg will back into the records for this state and make it look like you've lived here forever." He finished as he and Tron exited the house.

The drive to the house that Sam had lived in when he was a child took them half an hour outside the city. Sam had made the arrangements to have everyone meet there. He had moved back into the house two weeks after Quorra's arrival, when a sudden need for walls and doors had arisen.

When they arrived there were two other cars in the driveway, one belonging to Roy Kleinburg and the other to Alan and Lora.

Roy opened the door for them. "Sam got called away. Dillinger Junior called – something about a issue with a company called fCon. Sam and Quorra went to deal with it." He closed the door behind them and followed them into the living room where Alan and Lora were waiting.

"Did Quorra get her ID already?" Jet asked as he dropped into a chair.

"She did," Lora confirmed. "Sam even let her drive to Encom when they left a few minutes ago."

Jet considered that in light of his experiences when Quorra was behind the wheel. "Sucks to be him."

Roy had vanished into another room and reappeared with a half-legal size yellow envelope which he handed to Tron. "Here you. No one will ever guess, from looking at the records, anyway, that Trevor Bradley had not been born and spent his whole life here in California."

Tron pulled out a sheaf of papers; school records, birth certificate, social security card, and driver's license. Then he realized that there were two of everything in the envelope; two birth certificates, two social security cards, everything. And then he saw the name on the second card.

Yvette Bradley.

"What is this?" He asked, holding the card up for Roy to see.

"Oh, that?" Roy asked, looking like Ram used to when the other Program was trying to hide that he knew more than he was letting on. "I don't know. It must have gotten in there by mistake."

Tron turned to questioning looks to Lora and Alan. The pair merely grinned at him. And then a soft noise behind him made him turn and he saw a face he had never thought he would see again.

"Yori!" He cried, running over to lift her off her feet and twirl her around before pulling her close. She was wearing User clothing; a white shirt, black pants, and black shoes that looked like slippers. "I thought I'd never see you again."

"Tron," She replied, and kissed him, in spite of their observers.

And that was when Tron knew he was finally home.

**Author's Note:**

> Boy oh boy this got long. Um..I wanted some Tron and Alan interaction because there's not enough of it. So I started writing this …last year, in August. And now I've finished it. I fell like it could have been longer, but, I dunno. I didn't want to be stuck writing about inside the Grid forever, and the story's already pretty long. I apologize if the story seemed like it moved too quickly, but I hope you found it satisfying!
> 
> I've been thinking about this for awhile now but if you are a Tron fanfic writer and you have some idea you want to write about Tron being in the real world, PM me. Between this story and People Like Us, I might be able to help if you don't know how to get Tron out of the computer and into the real world.


End file.
